The Man Across The Lake

has a rifle that he points my way
whenever I am shoreside.
It’s a small lake.
I can almost make out the color of his eyes,
and sound carries well.
When I ask why the gun,
he claims I’m an interloper.
“But this was my grandfather’s cabin,” I yell at him across the wobbly water.
“Get off this land or I’ll shoot you sure as hell.”
Something in his expression,
his fixed gaze sighting the gun
looks familiar
and I remember finding the Polaroids
of Grandpa and that man—
his lover—
touching and kissing in nearly every photograph.
“You’re him,” I say, “The man in the pictures.”
I hear a click then,
echoing from the other side of the lake
as I turn and sprint.

Len Kuntz is an writer from Washington State and the author of the story collection, The Dark Sunshine, from Connotation Press. Additionally, he’s an editor at the online lit zine Literary Orphans. You can find him at http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.

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One Response to The Man Across The Lake

  1. Tiegan says:

    “Something in his expression,
    his fixed gaze sighting the gun
    looks familiar
    and I remember finding the Polaroids
    of Grandpa and that man—
    his lover—
    touching and kissing in nearly every photograph.”

    Beautiful.

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